


Two Heads

by claremontpsych



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Inspired by Prodigal Son (TV 2019), Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:35:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23129389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claremontpsych/pseuds/claremontpsych
Summary: “our love‘s a monster with two heads and one heartbeat”In which Malcolm and Dani realize how absolutely ruined both of their brains are, and how doomed they’ve been from the start.Weirdly, they both kind of like it.OR, a Brightwell one shot inspired by 2 Heads by Coleman Hell
Relationships: Malcolm Bright & Dani Powell, Malcolm Bright & JT Tarmel, Malcolm Bright & Jessica Whitly, Malcolm Bright/Dani Powell
Comments: 3
Kudos: 32





	Two Heads

Neither Malcolm nor Dani remembered exactly how they had ended up back in Malcolm's swanky Manhattan apartment together on this random Tuesday night. The pair had been at work together a brief few hours ago, but to them it felt like a mere number of moments. An earl grey tea sat in Dani’s right hand, a seltzer water in Malcolm’s, and weirdly the two found themselves in conversation.

Weird, that is, because after Malcolm’s kidnapping debacle, they had admitted to the growing feelings between them. No discussion came after as to the relationship status of the pair, and the tension was clearly growing high. Tonight was different somehow. The energy between them was less of a tangled mess of friction, and a smooth discussion fell easily. Trust was a large factor of the awkward relationship afoot, as Malcolm’s trauma-riddled brain has forced him to leave it at “I’m fine,” and Dani swears to all things holy that she most certainly doesn’t need a partner, or anyone, for that matter, to worry about her wellbeing at all. No one comes in, and no one goes out of her life. Her walls remain up, no matter the circumstance. JT once referred to them as a monster with two heads, and nothing has ever been more accurate.

The last time Dani sat on the sofa on which she currently found herself, she wound up leaving furious. A screaming fit broke out between the two for some ungodly reason, something simple, surely. If she remembered correctly, it was trust. Rather, the lack thereof. They say it’s essential to have trust in order to have a relationship, but after burying her father at the ripe old age of sixteen, and nearly losing herself to an addiction, it’s safe to say that trust doesn’t come easy with Dani. But of course, Malcolm wanted her to trust him. She had, as most do, witnessed his trauma firsthand. The hallucinations, the fear, the lack of sleep, the general corpse-like disposition that Malcolm Bright carried with him everywhere he went.

Dani’s trauma was less forthcoming. Rather, she made it less of a show, to inform everyone that she did, in fact, have a sea of her own demons.

So when Malcolm even insinuated that she was fine, and that she just didn’t want to open up because she doesn’t trust him, she refused to take it. She left. She trusted Malcolm Bright more than most, but he has yet to learn that her trust is an earned pleasure, not a given one. The man crawled back to her after about a week of workplace tensions. So suffice to say, smooth conversation never lasts long between Detective Dani Powell and the arrogant and suit-clad profiler across the room from her. They either decide that this relationship cannot happen for the sake of their work life, or they end up on the very fine line between surviving the night, and tearing each other’s heads off. 

“God damn you,” Malcolm breathed with a sigh, in the process of exchanging a Perrier sparkling water for a glass of top-shelf scotch. He can’t bear the thought of spending this night sober.

“Pardon?” Dani returned, not pleased with his sudden display of god-knows-what-emotion.

“Damn you, Dani Powell. You are an impossible woman. You never fail to leave me unsure if I should have you pinned to the wall, or if I should be telling you to leave and never come back…” he elaborated, trailing off to self-soothe his ‘never-better’ tremor, returning to his seat. “To be completely fair, I would prefer the former to the latter. However, you, of course, make a conflict of the matter.”

“How so?” she pressed, not so sure that this conversation is going to end well.

“You counter me in such a way-- you’re a stubborn woman, you know. You make it nearly impossible for me to know if what I’ve said is right or wrong, and even if I do know, you make a point to question it. And I worry every time that I’m going to fall in love with you. But, of course, we both know that I cannot do that.”

Dani was shocked. She tends to be such a way when Malcolm is around, but typically that comes as a result of his pure dumbassery. He refuses authority in a way that only he can get away with, and he leaves her often at her wits ends. Yet she couldn’t let him win this. She ponders a response for a brief second before deciding on 

“Then stop. Don’t fall in love with me.”

“You’re a detective, for Christ’s sake! It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know that it isn’t that easy!”

“Of course it’s that easy, Malcolm. I can walk out this door right now, go home, and never come back here. Our work relationship would be professional, and other than that we’d never speak again. Simple fucking task.”

“You don’t want th - ”

“How the hell do you know what I want, Bright?” She acknowledged her switch from calling him his first name to his last - it made it less personal, she thought. “You and I both know that you’re a - we’re fucking monsters!”

That slip of the tongue, the vaguest hint of a suggestion that he was a monster, more so than she was, was enough to tip Malcolm over his edge. His hand began to shake so strongly that the glass he was holding slipped clean out, shattering across his pristine hardwood floors. 

“You think I’m a monster!” he exclaimed. He had known it from the start, surely. Everyone thinks he is once they learn of his lineage. “Of course you do! I trusted you, Detective. I thought you were the first person in ages to see past my family! But you’re no different it seems.”

“How can I see past the twenty-three people your father killed, Bright? In cold blood! But this isn’t about him! You never wait for backup, you launch yourself into death head-first, and you’re all but a prisoner in your own home! How am I supposed to think you’re like everyone else?”

At the mention of his father, Malcolm flinched. As if Dani had thrown a physical punch. He had done everything in his power to separate himself from the man. His father wasn’t his choice. And certainly, if he had that choice, Martin Whitly would land starkly at the bottom of his list. The trauma he was spoon-fed as a young boy, it wasn’t his fault and it certainly wasn’t something he could control. As if the line of anti-something-or-other pills on his countertop, the restraints attached to his bed, the tremor in his hand, the yoga regimen and the pet parakeet he happens to keep weren’t all signs that he was trying his damndest to control what was wrong with him.

“Leave,” he managed, the romantic inclination he felt towards Dani suddenly draining.

“Malcolm I’m sorr - ”

“I said leave. If you think I’m such an insufferable monster, get out of my apartment! And remember that you’re a piece of work, too, Dani.”

It didn’t take much else for Dani to grab her coat and exit. She wasn’t going to beg his forgiveness - not tonight at least. Her dignity was too powerful for such a thing. She was sorry, sure, but not enough to stick around and drill him with enough apologies to set them back on the right track. So there she stood, hailing a cab back to the Bronx, thinking over their conversation. On the ride home, she thought about several things. First, how doomed she and Malcolm are and always will be, for starters. The way that she knew that this argument isn’t the last of its kind or caliber, and that the two of them will bicker this way until the end of time. Second, the fact that he may or may not have admitted to being in love with her, a feeling which she may or may not be believing she reciprocates. No, no she doesn’t. She can’t do that. She needs to leave, to clear her head, and to keep her relationship with Malcolm Bright strictly on professional terms. That is all.

Meanwhile, Malcolm trembled and all but wept his way through tidying the broken glass from earlier. He had seen himself as a monster since he was a young child, and that feeling has only grown tenfold since the kidnapping. He knew his father hated him in some sick way, but to learn that he was only on the camping trip to be killed? That instilled a layer of disgust in Malcolm, a yearning to crawl out of his own body and become someone entirely new. That is, of course, why he changed his surname all those years ago. But finding out that Dani viewed him as a monster cut like a Japanese knife. He knew, as a rational man and as a profiler - a career which has provided him with him many a Harvard course in psychology - that she most certainly didn’t mean the words she said and that they were all argumentative dramatics, and that they would make up and find themselves back here within the next month or so. But as a traumatized man with enough self doubt to cripple the entire United States and then some, he was deeply pained by what had rolled off her tongue in that moment. 

Maybe JT was right when he called them, as a unit, a two-headed monster. Something far, far from a match made in heaven, but something you just can’t split.

Malcolm spent the rest of his night chained to his mattress and staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t even doze off enough to have a night terror, which is a demon of its own. Right now, though, he thought he might prefer the demons to the ever-present thought of the dark haired detective with the too-high walls, the one that certainly believes him to be his father’s son. The one that he unfortunately had feelings for, despite the venom the two shed nearly every time they speak. 

The two both, shockingly, arrived at the precinct in the morning. As she promised herself, Dani had decided that their relationship is solely professional. They are coworkers, and nothing more. Bright, however, looked surprisingly worse than usual.

“Trouble in paradise?” JT teased, sensing the hostility lingering between the two. Dani flashed a glare in his direction, and he understood that there was a boundary in place that he was not to cross.

The first day on this case went poorly. Neither of the Manhattan argument duo were on their game, per se, and Gil sent Malcolm home. Not Dani, as he needed his best detective aboard. A profiler, however, could come back tomorrow. Malcolm attempted rest while at home, under Gil’s order, of course. That went about as you’d expect. Thinking of Dani, his beautiful Dani, who was never even to be his. He laughed about this as soon as it happened, but he even shed a tear thinking about how she so confidently begun to say “you’re a fucking monster,” but later retracted the statement to replace it with “we’re both fucking monsters.” He had almost ignored all of his psychological knowledge to even convince himself that she was serious. After dwelling on thoughts of Dani for a moment too long, Malcolm slipped into a nap that quickly soured into a night terror, albeit it isn’t quite nighttime at the moment. Call it a midday terror, if you will, and then acknowledge the man’s tossing and turning as he attempts to fight off his own dream - his father trying to kill him. He gasped awake to find it had been less than an hour since his falling asleep, and his desperate head for a moment considered phoning Dani. Whether it be to punch him in the jaw and knock him out for a full six or more hours, or to just talk with him and keep him both comforted and calm until he could obtain a small amount of natural rest, the woman (when not calling him a monster) never failed to make him rest up.

He couldn’t bring himself to call her now. Couldn’t bare to even reach for his phone and look at it. He sighed and carried on.

A few days passed, and tensions remained high. So high, in fact, that Malcolm has convinced himself that the worst part of Dani's freudian slip was just that - the simple fact that it was a freudian slip. Revealing a subconscious feeling that he didn’t believe she even had it in herself to hold towards him. The words ran through his brain for nearly every second of every day. He was wounded, scarred even, by the thought of her finding him to be a monster. The two somehow managed to close their case and call the work week successful, but now they’ve a weekend afoot - and neither had a case to distract themselves.

A sunny Saturday morning managed to bless the boroughs of New York City, but Malcolm had been awake long before the sun had even thought to rise. He downed his pills in one fell swoop, cared for Sunshine, and then watched the real sunshine itself rise across the beautiful Upper East Side.

As it were, Dani’s morning was less peaceful. She awoke to the late morning sun shining through her window, and what sounded to be arguing just outside her apartment building. She was used to The Bronx and the noise that came with living there - she was raised not far from where she stood, after all, but it was mornings like these in which she missed the peace of staying at Malcolm’s apartment. She had only stayed over a handful of times, but whenever she did, she awoke to nary a sound other than the occasional chirp from Sunshine the parakeet, and Malcolm’s reply of “Hello, sunshine,” or something similar. A hot cup of tea, which Malcolm only kept in his home due to his mother and Dani herself, would always sit on the bedside table for her, and his apartment smelled warm - like firewood and cologne more expensive than anything Dani herself owned. She felt strange to miss his apartment in such a way when she’s desperately trying to separate herself from the man himself. She contemplated sending him a text, but reminded herself of the nature of their (now) strictly professional relationship.

His never-better shaking hand was slim to never worse. He could barely grab a thing, hold a clenched fist, or answer his telephone. It had been this severe, and only marginally worse, when the trauma instilled in him by his father was still a fresh wound that he could only bare dealing with by his trembling hand. His usually organized-yet-messy apartment was borderline losing the organization. He was falling apart at the seams. 

Her dirty laundry was piled across the floor, but she lifted her chin and tidied regardless. She knew she couldn’t falter her shell if she wanted to survive this arrangement. She made sure to stucco the cracks that were forming in the walls that kept everyone out, especially the one that was approximately the size of one Malcolm Bright. She was regretting her slip of the tongue, most certainly, but she would be damned to crawl back to him. She was too hard headed and, as he put it, impossible, to do such a deed. 

He was significantly less impossible, but he wasn’t going to disrespect her wishes. Sure, he does it at work all the time, but this wasn’t work. This was a personal matter, and Malcolm is the king of bottling up all things personal until he has a full blown manic episode. The aforementioned manic episode was not of his concerns, at the moment, but he was aware of the risk. He bottled it up anyway. Surprisingly, to keep his mind off of her, he voluntarily went out for lunch with both his mother and his sister. A momentous occasion, really.

The lunch went about as well as you’d expect from the ex-wife and two children of the generation’s most prolific serial killer. Jessica noticed her son’s terribly shaky hand and proceeded to ask if he was seeing his father again, to which his reply was “Right now, my father is the least of my concerns.” A lie, of course, but one that fell only slightly off from the truth - his main concern was still Dani and her opinions of him, but that came as a result of his father’s behavior. Thus, his father was certainly a rather large concern, but definitely not the main one. 

His mother and sister, collectively, then moved on to prying about his romantic life. Ainsley knew of her brother’s, well, not platonic feelings for his partner in crime (or crime fighting, rather), but she also knew of how stubborn both Malcolm and Dani were, and acknowledged the boundary between them. Jessica didn’t have this knowledge and attempted to inform Malcolm of some Wall Street executive’s heiress daughter that would be just perfect for him, and when it almost entirely shut Malcolm down and he refused to tell why, she deployed her favorite tactic.

“Ainsley, spill,” she spat, turning her head to the blonde sitting to her left.

“He’s in love with Dani - the detective he works with,” Ainsley began. “But they’re both too dumb and too stubborn to agree to start a relationship, or at least to talk about one.”

“It isn’t that,” Malcolm interjected slowly.

“What is it then, honey?” Jessica asked, her curiosity now piqued. She honest to god thought that her son just wasn’t interested in women at all after his last failed relationships, so to know that a possible love interest existed in his life was exciting news. She wanted grandbabies before she was too old, of course!

“She’s not very trusting, to say the least. And we’re about as good together as oil and water. I think she’s hung on my father’s status, and the fact that our lineage isn’t particularly a desirable one to marry into.” He attempted humor, ensuring that the argument between them wasn’t even insinuated at. He knew well that he wasn’t particularly funny, but he always made the effort to lighten the stiff mood that hangs over his family.

Neither his mother nor Ainsley laughed. The conversation was put to rest shortly after, and they ate in silence. Nobody knew what else to say. Eventually, Jessica decided to discuss journalism with Ainsley, and Malcolm excused himself as a result.

He went home, of course. To Sunshine the parakeet and to the loneliness of his apartment and his own sadness and guilt. And desperation, of course. And Malcolm Bright, the brilliant man that he is, decided he owed Dani Powell an apology. So he grabbed his phone and opened his messages, and sent a text that read “I’m sorry for what I said about you. Know that I meant all things positive, and that much of the negative was solely expressed in the heat of the moment. I’m also sorry for my father, and for how my father has impacted me and my daily life. I hope that this no longer affects our working relationship.” He could’ve said more, surely, but he still wanted to respect her wishes and give her the space that she deserves. He threw his phone down after sending the text, knowing she surely won’t respond, and he went about his day whilst trying to pretend that nothing at all happened. He heard his phone vibrate every now and again, but he dismissed it as his mother, or Ainsley, or Gil, or maybe even Dr. Le Deux - definitely not Dani. 

He resigned himself to flipping through television channels, hoping that he could find something to entertain him and his thoughts. That didn’t last long, as hallucinations of his younger self, as well as The Girl in the Box, began to dance across the room. He knew these hallucinations far, far too well, and he immediately turned off the tv and put his head in his hands. He knew he was unwell, he had admitted to it a thousand times, but yet nothing seemed to fix it. The impulsivity, willingness to jump headlong into potential death, was growing worse and worse. He did, after all, accidentally hold a loaded gun to his own head, before Gil took it from his hands. The hallucinations and tremors were also worsening, and he genuinely never slept. Dr. Le Deux had, many a time, expressed her concern for Malcolm, urging him to see a psychiatrist whose formal training was not to handle the delicate mind of a prepubescent child, but he’s too stubborn and set in his ways to ever even consider doing such a thing. While she was on the brain, he made a mental note to schedule an appointment with her soon. Clearly he needed it. 

He let himself get lost in thought, his mind finally not fixated on Dani, and continued thinking about his past, and his present, and everything between age ten and now. That is, until a loud, police-force knock echoed off his door. He quickly attempted to wrangle in Sunshine so as to not lose the bird out the front door - a process that is significantly more difficult than you’d think, and then whoever the perpetrator of the ungodly front door knock simply let themself in. 

Dani Powell was an observant woman. She had received Malcolm’s text earlier in the day and attempted to text him back more than once, but she then realized that he likely hadn’t even noticed. So, she put on what she considered to be presentable attire, stepped out of her apartment, and hailed a cab. Roughly thirty minutes later, she was flipping up the doormat outside of his Manhattan apartment, grabbing the spare key, and letting herself in. She could see his shock, his parakeet nestled between his palms, as she walked into his home as if it were her own. He quickly released Sunshine back into the cage, and turned to face Dani for the first time since she entered the apartment.

“Detective Powell,” he greeted her, a simple nod sufficing.

“Malcolm, I’m sorry,” she began, finally reducing her pride enough to allow her feelings to spill. “I shouldn't have said what I did. I should’ve been more careful with my words, and I never should’ve insinuated that you’re just like your father.”

“No, you were right. I’m my father’s son, and in every possible way I’m a monstrous human being. I mean, look at the state of my apartment. Obviously I’m not as fine as I claim to be.”

“Stop that. If you’re a monster, imagine what that makes me. I’ve killed people on the job, Bright. The closest you’ve come is the stupid shit you’ve done to solve a case. Sure, you’re a little on the weird side, but I never should’ve even thought of you as a monster. I really am sorry.”

He snickered at her comment. ‘A little on the weird side’ was a very vast understatement of the man before her, but she was trying to be nice right now, after all.

“Bright, seriously. I overstepped, and I’m legitimately sorry for that. I knew you wouldn’t see my texts so I came over to apologize in person. Maybe I shouldn’t have.”

He half-smiled, glad to finally be offered at least a sliver of peace of mind. That, and he was glad to have Dani back in his apartment, where he doesn’t have to straighten his tie and force a professional face. “No, thank you for coming. I appreciate the apology, and again I’m sorry for what I said.”

“I kinda deserved it,” she laughed.

“Can we talk? Civilly, and without yelling?” he asked, “I can make you tea?”

“Y’know, I swore to myself we’d keep this professional, but yeah, Bright, I’d like that”  
Malcolm smiled and turned into the kitchen, heating a kettle to make her a cup of tea. He, of course, obtained himself a bottle of sparkling water and a string of licorice as he waited for the water to boil. As soon as the kettle began to whistle, he poured off some of the boiling water and suspended in a bag of tea, preparing it in exactly the way she preferred.

He handed her the cup - fine china, a gift from his mother, of course, and took his typical seat across the living room again.

“And so, we return to this position like moths to a flame,” he proclaimed dramatically.

“Unfortunately. We might both be monsters, but I think we’re more like a monster with two heads and one heartbeat.” She chuckled, sipping her tea and setting the cup down, “Terrible and horrible, but you can’t separate us.”

He nodded. “JT said that once, and I’ve thought about it ever since. He was right.”

“Yup, but don’t tell him that. It’ll go to his head.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He laughed to himself, knowing just how inflated JT’s ego would become if he knew the situation at hand. “Can we address the elephant in the room now? We have to do it eventually.”

She just nodded. She knew this conversation had only two ways to end, and both were unfavorable, to say the least.

“Dani, I’m in love with you. Let’s just put it out there. But I understand your boundaries, and I respect you if you want to just act like nothing’s going on.”

“I thought I could do it, but I think I’m in love with you too, Bright,” she said, putting her head down to avoid his glance.

“Does that mean we now have to acknowledge the potential of us being in a relationship?”

“I guess so.”

That’s all it takes for Malcolm to stand and waltz across his living room to Dani, gently placing a hand under her chin and kissing her softly.

“Well, I would be so greatly honored, Detective, if you’d allow me to treat you to dinner sometime. A date, if you will. And if I could live forever, I would love you unconditionally an infinite number of times, and take you on dinner dates until time itself stopped.” He smiled, sparing her none of the formalities.

She grabbed the back of his head, pulling him back in for another kiss. Longer, more passionate this time, but still brief enough for her to pull away and answer his proposal. “I’d be flattered.”

The rest of the night whizzed by in a flash, and soon the two found themselves stretched out across Malcolm’s bed, his left hand locked in as a safety precaution if he were, by chance, to fall asleep. His right hand was situated at the small of her back as she droned on about stories from her childhood - not too personal for her to share now, but enough for them to converse about. He returned the favor by sharing some of his stories, albeit there were fewer since his childhood ended at approximately the age of ten.

She dozed off before he managed to, her head rested on his chest and his arm still around her. He smiled to himself, planting a soft kiss to her forehead and mumbling “two heads, one heartbeat” - precisely what had become of them on this Saturday night in Manhattan.

**Author's Note:**

> So! This is my first ever one shot that I've had the balls to post. Fun! Massive thanks to all of my friends who proofread this bad boy and kept me on track to make it happen. Also a huge thanks to everyone on Tumblr that was so supportive of this work! 
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr as claremontpsych as well- I don't bite! 
> 
> Don't forget to leave kudos or comments :)


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